


Disappear

by TellMyLegacy



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: But they are a million worlds apart, Canonical Character Death, Connor's hope is pinned on Evan and his family, Connor's thoughts as everything happens, Depression, I'm Sorry, Mostly Canon Compliant, Slight references to Connor's sexuality, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 10:21:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11400597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TellMyLegacy/pseuds/TellMyLegacy
Summary: Connor Murphy had known Evan Hansen long before they met.Since the moment that Evan had told him that he had just "fallen" from the tree, everything had become clear to Connor.Evan hadn't fallen. Judging by the desperation and sadness and please don't ask any more questions in his eyes, Connor was sure that Evan hadn't fallen.Evan had let go.And it made him stagger slightly, lose his breath, and simply begin to see this boy with new eyes.Because they were both so broken.(TRIGGER WARNING: Please read the tags. If you are triggered by suicide and depression, please don't read.)





	Disappear

Connor Murphy had known who Evan Hansen was long before they even met.  
  
"I'm not the freak. You're the fucking freak!" Connor felt his hands move before he even thought about doing something. Next thing he knows, Hansen is laying on the floor, holding his broken arm. He stood there for a second, and then he ran.  
  
He ran away. He ran until his lungs burned with the need of air. He ran until the only thing he could see was the outside parking lot of the school. He ran until the only thing left in his mind was the need to end everything.  
  
He was a fucking coward, but this was all his fault. He actually felt remorse at pushing the innocent kid to the ground, with a broken arm as it is.  
  
So he went back, and he walked through the halls over and over until he caught sight of the dirty blond hair and shuffling hands and blue shirt.  
  
Evan had gone to the computer room, so Connor followed behind.  
  
Connor Murphy had known Evan Hansen long before they met.  
  
Since the moment that Evan had told him that he had just "fallen" from the tree, everything had become clear to Connor.  
  
Evan hadn't fallen. Judging by the desperation and sadness and _please don't ask any more questions_ in his eyes, Connor was sure that Evan hadn't fallen.  
  
Evan had let go.  
  
And it made him stagger slightly, lose his breath, and simply begin to see this boy with new eyes.  
  
Because they were both so broken.  
  
Connor, with his anger and depression and (though he would never admit it) addiction, and Evan, with anxiety and sadness and guilt eating away his entire being.  
  
And Connor could see himself in Evan, even though they were so different. Even though Evan was all soft and Connor was all rough. Even though Evan loved trees and Connor loved rock. They were so different, yet, so similar.  
  
And Evan had tried to do what Connor has wanted for a long time. The boy who stuttered in every sentence he spoke climbed up a tree, went to the farthest branch he could reach, and simply let go. He just let go.  
  
And he was still here.  
  
Evan failed, and now has a cast with a single name and a new kind of hope in his eyes when Connor said, "now we can both pretend to have friends."  
  
And he would be lying if he said that it didn't make him picture a new day, with a friend(another person just as messed up as he).  
  
But nothing ever lasts for Connor Murphy.  
  
Since he was a kid, long before his eyes lost their naive shine, he had always broken his toys. Everyday, he would cry when his new car or his favorite puzzle ripped in pieces after being in the hands of him. Then, when he was long lost with anger and this fucking depression, pot never seemed to last him either. Everyday, he just wanted more and more.  
  
He was a fucking fool in thinking that he could make Evan last a little bit longer.  
  
He was about to hand Evan- where they friends now?- the letter from the printer, but a small, painless word made his world stop. Everything was quiet. And now, he was 8 years old again, watching through teary eyes as his whole family chose his sister over him. Every. Single. Time.  
  
_Zoe._  
  
It shouldn't have hurt as much as it did. It shouldn't have made his heart feel heavy against his chest. It shouldn't have made his throat feel tight. It shouldn't have made his eyes watery.  
  
He should be used to it by now, shouldn't he?  
  
But every time, it hurt just the same. Every time, his will to live thinned. And every time, he broke a little more.  
  
So he hid it with the only weapon he knew how to yield.  
  
Anger.  
  
He was so stupid for thinking that Evan was going to be different. He was so stupid for thinking that maybe they could have become good friends, best friends, (though a part of him would have always wished for more) two broken boys wandering the strange reality that is life. Two broken pieces making one.  
  
But he is such a mistake that no one wants to be near him. No one wants to be his friend. No one will ever choose him, instead of his perfect sister. And no one would ever notice that he is gone.  
  
So he walked away from Evan, the letter crumbled up in his hand. He walked away from the school, feeling a strange high as he looked at the school where everything became worst for what would (hopefully) be the last time. And it was kind of satisfying, actually, to simply walk away from the past years of his life, leaving everything behind for the last time. He felt so fucking good, knowing that he will be at peace soon.  
  
He threw back his head and laughed. He laughed until tears (from giddiness or sadness) fell from his eyes. He laughed maniacally until the people passing in the streets looked at him strangely. He laughed as he looked at this road for the last time.  
  
Connor Murphy had thought that he knew Evan Hansen long before they met.  
  
He was wrong.  
  
Now, questions began to rise as he walked through the side walk (because as much as he wants to kill himself, a car accident isn't really the best way to do it). He wanted to know what song Evan chose as his last. What book? What food? What picture? What tree? What was the last thing he thought about as he let go of the branch? Did he regret it mid way there?  
  
He would never find out.  
  
Walking through the streets brought memories that he had forgotten. Like passing through the old cinema reminded him of when he and Zoe snuck out to see a movie, and received a lot of punishments from their parents. As he stopped for a moment in the closed down apple orchard, he remembered when his family and he used to have small picnics, where everything was okay for just a little while. He passed memories through memories, remembering everything. From the sorrow and pain, to the small glimpses of happiness. And even though he knew these roads like a second nature, he still felt so lost.  
  
Was this how Evan had felt?  
  
The doubt began crawling into the corners of his broken mind. Was this what he truly wanted? Did he just want to leave the world forever, or simply forget about his problems for a little while? Did he want to give up, or did he want to just rest?  
  
His sight was blurry, and he felt like a fucking wimp after crying over and over again in just one day. His cheeks were blotchy from where he scratched his skin to rid of the tears falling from his eyes.  
  
_Connor didn’t want to die._ The realization hit him harder than it should have. He gasped for breath, gasped for life, and fell to his knees in the dirt of the orchard, placing his head on the ground, and just breathing.  
  
_He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die._ He wanted to wake up tomorrow to another shitty day, fighting with Zoe and screaming at Larry, and being just so fucking tired of being angry. He wanted to wait for the new album of his favorite band, for just another taste of ice cream from A La Mode. He wanted to finish his last sketchbook, to complete the single drawing that had taken years to be perfected. He wanted to feel sand beneath his feet, to find someone who would find the strength to love him (and he knew. He knew that he had the chance with a boy just like him, but he blew it away.). He wanted to walk into school and forget his grudges, to walk up to Evan and ask him about his favorite trees and favorite books and-  
  
Evan wanted Zoe. And Larry wanted Zoe. And even though his mom tried to hide it, she looked at Zoe with adoration in her eyes, a kind of emotion that no one had ever looked at Connor with.  
  
And he didn’t want to die. But he was just so tired of everything. Of being someone’s second choice, of being angry, of everything. He was just so tired.  
  
His legs felt like lead when he stood up from the ground, his jeans stained brown. He felt dirt in the crevices of his forehead, under his chipped nails, and inside his boots. He began to walk towards his final destination, looking left and right, wanting someone to see him.  
  
He watched the people pass by, giving him no second glance. He tried to speak, tried to wave, tried to get help, but his arms remained motionless at his sides.  
  
The world passed him by, and Connor was stuck in this single moment, wanting to call out for help, but not finding the strength to do so anymore.  
  
He looked at the sky, heaved a breath, and kept walking.  
  
Finally, he arrived at he place where everything had begun. His house (because it would never be his home).  
  
Everything was so ordinary and so in order that it pained him just to see the place where he grew up. A home isn't supposed to be white couches with a disgustingly clean rug, nor a fridge full of organic meals and a spotless kitchen table.  
  
A home is supposed to be a mess that reflects the family proudly, as if telling everyone fuck you this is who we are. A home is a worn couch with stains from making mistakes. A home is a fridge full of every random thing you could think of, because when you went to the supermarket, you threw in the most colorful packages and your mom let you, just this once. A home is supposed to be imperfect and messy and real.  
  
And Connor never had a real home.  
  
He walked briskly towards his room, stopping midway there to turn down the temperature, like he always did. The kitchen counter had a message from his mom, saying how she was gonna go to yoga class and blah blah blah.  
  
The steps leading to his room had become automatic at one point in his life, a point where he had made the choice to stop going to the kitchen first to greet his mother, or going to the living room to hang out with Zoe. And until now, he usually just went and stayed there, simply watching the hours passing by.  
  
But today was different, because today was the day where he will lean back in his bed, feeling the music through his veins, and simply letting himself fade away.  
  
So Connor changed into his favorite hoodie, picked a carefully thought out playlist, and swallowed all the dreams and hopes that will never be complete.  
  
And just like that, he realized that maybe after all he was just never actually meant to live a good life. He believed that there were some people who just don't belong.  
  
He just so happened to be one of them.  
  
The bottle fell from his hands and into the floor, a soft sound that was heard in all the house. His hands felt heavy, his chest tight, and he was so scared and relieved and for a second he was just going to let the pills roll away from him.  
  
For a second he just looked at the lone window in his room, hoping that Zoe would miraculously skip their first Jazz band meeting, that Larry would come home early, that his mom’s yoga class was canceled.  
  
The streets remained empty, and just like that, he picked up the bottle from the floor.  
  
The last thing Connor Murphy saw was a picture perfect afternoon, with a printed letter (from a boy who would forever be his biggest “what if”) tucked into his jeans.  
  
Connor Murphy was found, but it was too late.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you guys for reading this story. Writing this meant a lot to me, since suicide is something that I believe should be taken more seriously. If any of you out there are in need of help, please do not hesitate to send me a message. There are many people who are willing to help you, and there are many reasons to stay alive. I myself have anxiety, and have had thoughts similar to those in the story. However, I want everyone to know that, if I pulled through this, YOU can also pull through this. Once again, stay alive guys. You will be found :)
> 
> NATIONAL AMERICAN SUICIDE HOTLINE (24/7): 1-800-273-8255  
> MESSAGE ME ON TUMBLR: @TellMyLegacy
> 
> Stay Strong, and Stay Alive.


End file.
